Star Trek: Peacekeepers (S1E2) - The Ruins of Empire
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: When a Romulan ship decloaks right infront of the USS Wayne, it is up to the crew to figure out why the Romulans are there in Federation territory.
1. Teaser

**Episode 2: The Ruins of Empire**

 **Teaser**

Lieutenant Commander Beverly Train sat back in the central Captains chair on the bridge of the _Wayne_. She rubbed her neck just above her pips, where she had developed quiet an itch. Doctor T'Lal said there was nothing wrong, that it must all be in her mind. But she certainly wasn't making it up! Her skin had been pretty raw the past couple of days. Perhaps she was allergic to the material of the uniform? It was a new one after her last one ripped during a rather vigorous training exercise in holodeck three.

"What is our status?" she asked, calling out to the front. She didn't care if conn or navigation answered. It was just too quiet on the deck.

"All systems are running within a seven-degree variation," the conn officer, Ops officer Beela Teeb, a Bolian lieutenant reported. "Our engines are running well-within the green. And life support is working at ninety-five percent efficiency."

"Great," she said, rolling her eyes at his report. For seven months she had served on this ship, as the Assistant Tactical Officer, second in the tactical/security hierarchy underneath Z'org. There had been absolutely _nothing_ to preoccupy her time. "Bridge to Sickbay."

 _"Sickbay here_ ," came the rapid reply. Yet the voice that responded, Nurse Beatrix Douerty, sounded a little _too_ eager. " _Anything I can do for you?"_

"No, Nurse Douerty," Train replied, "Is there anything that's happened down there? Anything I can come down and help with?"

An elongated silence followed. A heavy sigh could be heard following: " _No, although I really wish I did!_ " The sound of the Deltan nurses voice sounded just as depressed as it did absolutely bored. Well, that was that. Beverly closed the communication, feeling despair filling her.

Train sunk into the seat even more. She glanced at the digital clock that read on the command arm-rest interface. _03:11._ They still had four hours left on their shift and the Commander felt her head would explode from the drag of time.

"Is there an asteroid out there we can pummel with a few photon torpedoes?" she asked, hoping against hope.

"No, ma'am," Tactical replied.

"Is there a comet that we can tag with a few phasers?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," came the reply.

"Is there a clocked Borg ship that can assimilate us so we get of this drudgery?"

"Sorry, nothing like that."

"Come on!" Beverly said, standing to her feet and waving her arms in frustration. She turned in exasperation to the Bajoran male, who stood in his immaculately pressed gold uniform. "There has to be something out there, Crewman Betta!"

"You could always blow up Yallada Prime," the Bajoran suggested. "Nothing down there but rocks and Romulan ruins, ma'am."

There was indeed something to be said about shooting up a planet that once was home to the Romulans. It would give her a small bit of excitement and actually give her something to report when Alpha Shift took over from Gamma. To see the planet erupting in a fiery flame, burning the heavens with its glory, although it might be short lived, certainly had a great appeal to the Gamma Shift Watch officer.

No, no. That would be too much paperwork. Maybe not physical but certainly digital paperwork. Then there would be Admirals to talk to, perhaps the Federation DOJ, perhaps even get mind-melded by some jumped-up Vulcan.

"As good a suggestion as that sounds," Beverly said with a wry grin, "I'd hate to be the one to explain _that_ to the Captain."

The Bajoran suppressed a grin, but not as successfully as he probably thought he had. Beverly turned away from him, feeling that if she stayed up here, she would go nuts. Well, at least _she_ could leave the bridge. Stretch her legs, do something like that.

"Well," she said, stretching her back as she said it. She felt her back popping in several places. "I honestly feel the need to talk a walk. Any of you wanting to arm-wrestle for command while I'm gone?"

She could feel more then hear Crewman Betta's excitement growing at the prospect of a chance to command the bridge, even for a little bit. Yet, he would have to wait! It wasn't exactly proper for a crewman only a year into his Starfleet service to command the bridge of a newer model starship! Even one a nearly a decade out of space dock.

Train opened her mouth to say something when the computer called out in a calm manner " _Collison alert!_ " throughout the bridge. Train barely had time react when a Romulan ship decloaked right before the ship. The ship was massive in the forward viewscreen.

"Full stop! Full stop!" she shouted. Despite the laxities of the night shift, there was doubt the explosive nature of the response from her bridge crew. The flight officer didn't even reply as the Vulcan's fingers moved faster then was humanly possible. Ironically, everything seemed to slow down, although it was just adrenaline pounding through the Lieutenant Commander. Despite the suddenly lack of the essentials of responding to an officers request, she found it oddly comforting in those few seconds that the officer wasn't taking time to respond verbally but acting without thought.

The ship came to a very sharp stop, and the inertial dampeners failed to catch the almost infinitely rapid shift from three-quarters impulse to full stop. The flight and conn officers slammed hard into their consoles, unable to catch themselves. Yet she didn't see that, as she lost her footing and slammed chest first into the floor, crying out in pain as her arm connected with the Vulcan's shoulder, both falling to the floor, the Vulcan on top of her.

The gravity caught up and she felt the gravity take hold. "Raise shields and 'Red Alert'!" she called out, Ensign T'Pok struggling to get to his feet. He barely got up, and she pulled herself up. Her left arm was clearly broken, red flashes streaking through her vision, making it hard to see. She must have been rattled harder then she thought because she was starting to hear rapid chirping in her ears.

"They are hailing us," Crewman Betta called out.

Beverly could hear the pain in his voice and glancing back, he was holding his stomach as if it hurt. Not like there was any reason to expect otherwise.

"Onscreen," she said, turning back to the viewscreen. The Vulcan was holding his face, small trickles of green blood pouring from around his hands. She put her good hand on his shoulder.

The screen switched from the special view of the Romulan ship, which seemed now to actually be a small transport ship, to a view of a bridge. It was small, looking to be the size of a closet then a full bridge. It wasn't the Romulan that caught her attention but all the equipment that was stacked in the back of the bridge.

"I am sorry to drop in right in-front of you!" the Romulan said, drawing her attention back to the Romulan. He had salt-grey hair, not bowl cut like most Romulans preferred, but his hair came almost to the eyebrows on his predominate brow. "I hope it did not cause too much stuff."

"You broke my arm!" Commander Train said, scowling at him. "And you've hurt quite a few others on my bridge. What is your reason for being here, in Federation territory, Romulan?"

The man raised his hands defensively, as if he were the victim here. The audacity of him! She was tempted to turn those photons that they had Yallada Prime's name on them on the Romulan intruders.

The Romulan gave an innocent grin. "Trust me, this is a case where asking forgiveness then permission and I can prove it!"

Train really wished now that she hadn't been so quick to desire excitement on this shift.


	2. Act 1

**Act 1**

 _His body slumped against the console, his arms barely holding his weight as he leaned against the interface. He could feel the freezing, yet burning sensation of the nanites worming their way through him, cutting deeply into his veins. The whirring of the drone sounded behind him as it withdrew the tubules that had sliced through flesh, muscles and veins._

 _The violation, the realization that he had been invaded by foreign objects, seemed to burn a rage through him. It took some doing, but he turned to the drone that had stepped back once, and was reaching out with another arm. No doubt to transport him to the Borg sphere, the one his ship was on a ramming course towards. To become one of millions of thoughtless, mindless drones._

 _No! He leaped at the drone, his pain forgotten even as he began to feel his upper arm and shoulder began to go numb. The drone fell backwards against the unexpected assault. Was that surprise he saw in the drones eyes?_

 _His good hand grabbed the hose that connected the Borg's eyepiece to the torso. His fingers wrapped around it, hate and rage fueling through him. He was not going to become a drone! He was going to return home and be with Leslie, the woman he loved! No! The hand ripped outwards, and the drone began to seizure violently as sparks flew from the torn hose._

 _No! The ship rumbled as fire hit it, and even as he savaged the Borg drone, slamming again and again on it, fury driving all thoughts from his mind, he was going to slam his ship into the Borg, killing them all!_

James Enviro, science officer of the _USS Perspective_ , was awakened by the sudden slamming of the ship. He was upended, thrown in an awkward arc up over his mattress and his mind hadn't even processed that he was moving before he slammed down, hard against the floor.

"Damage report!" he cried out, unable to move as his body was still stuck in the paralytically state of slumber. "Did we destroy the Borg ship?"

He lay on the floor, and no report came. He blinked and looked around…..where was he? Where were the Conn and Flight stations? Why was there a potted plant that was leaning precariously against the wall by its edge, somehow not having fallen from the impact.

His eyes swept along the floor, to see a fallen table, books scattered all over the floor. His boots had also been thrown against the wall. That made no sense. Why was his boots thrown against the wall? Wouldn't they be on his feet?

James shifted his arms to under him, and pushed up, until he was sitting back on his calves. Why was he in taupe colored pajamas? Where was his phaser? What was the door doing right there? There should have been a viewport, showing the Borg sphere they had just rammed. His eyes roved around him, frowning at the alien scene. These quarters, were they his?

 _What in the name of Hell is going on here?_ He wondered in bewilderment. _Is this how I see heaven? Have I died and gone to the afterlife? Or was that whole Borg thing a dream?_

The Lieutenant Commanders arm felt stiff, so he raised he. His eyes narrowed as he saw the bracelet laced around his arm. It looked Borg, but how did he get it?

 _"All senior staff,_ " a woman's voice called over the intercom system. _"Please report to the Conference Room. Commander Enviro, go to transporter room one and meet with Z'org there."_

 _Z'org_? James wondered to himself. _Who is Z'org…_

He had barely thought that when suddenly a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. No, he wasn't on the _Perspective_ , this was the _Wayne_. He had survived ramming the Borg sphere. It was months in the past. He was now Commander, not Lieutenant Commander, and he was First Officer of the _Wayne_.

 _"Commander Enviro?"_ the woman, Captain Lillian Traz called over the comm. _"Are you alright?"_

"Yes I am," he said apologetically. "I got a little jogged by….whatever happened. I'll meet the Lieutenant Commander in transporter room one."

* * *

"What happened?" Judy Ziz asked, poking her head out of her quarters as James Enviro walked by. He looked especially disheveled, which was only to be expected from how everyone had been thrown around.

"Have no idea, Councilor," he replied, reaching up and running through his hair, trying to comb it as best as he could.

She stepped outside into the hallway, falling into step beside him. She pulled at the straps of her more civilian style clothing, tightening it around her petite frame. She hadn't exactly had time to change into a uniform from her night gown, as the Captain had sounded most urgent in her request for all the senior staff to make it to the Conference Room.

"Sure a heck of a way to wake up," she remarked, the Human towering over her by a head and neck.

"I'm actually glad," he remarked, stepping up to the turbolift. They halted for just a second, until the lift obediently opened up, allowing them access to the cylindrical car.

"Oh?" the Trill asked, stepping in behind him. "Bridge."

The computer beeped once to acknowledge the request. "Deck 15," the First Officer called to the computer. The computer beeped again and at once began to descend. Most people wouldn't feel it, but Trills, especially joined ones like her, were far more sensitive to gravity shifts caused by descending and ascending lift, shuttles and whatnot. And the more hosts one had acquired, the more pronounced the changes were. And with her currently on her sixth host, it was quite noticeable.

"I was having a pretty bad nightmare," he said, in a moment of unguarded honesty that the Commander very rarely displayed. He was guarded at all times; refusing to give way to his inner-most thoughts and feelings. "So being so violently awoken was a good thing."

"What was the nightmare about?" she asked, "My third host, Gaveree Ziz, was all into reading dreams and I am not so bad at it myself."

The Commander glanced sideways and down at her, his eyes narrowing. She held her eyes, keeping as easy an air about it as she could. His suspicious stare did nothing to dissuade her from looking away.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sir?" she asked innocently.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," he dismissed her act of innocence. "I'm not going to open up to you. Talk about my feelings, certainly not on a turbolift."

"So that means that we can schedule an appointment?" she asked, a big smile spread across her face. She automatically brought up to mind her schedule for the day. Judy wasn't exactly one of those with a photographic memory, but she had a very good memory for things that were written down. She had always assumed it had actually come from a previous host, perhaps General Adha Ziz, who had a pretty good eye for details, as she had never been too overly concerned about remembering such things before her Joining. "I can schedule you in after Crewman…."

"No," he said shortly, the lift coming to a slow stop. The door opened and he stepped out, leaving the Councilor all by herself.

The Trill woman shrugged. She knew that he has been ordered to visit with her and despite the fact that it had been a full month since he had first come on board, she was willing to wait for a little while longer before getting the Captain involved.

The lift began to ascend, and she leaned back. Only then, with her back against the durasteel frame, did she realize her fingers were drumming on her leg and she assumed had been doing so since she first stepped into the lift with the First Officer.

 _Okay, you can stop it now Ziz,_ she commanded through thought. _He's gone._

The symbiont sent her an impression of thought, its understanding if not it's reluctance. It liked making sure that the other hosts were represented as much as possible in her life, but Judy was a woman all her own, even with the worm (as her human friend Jennifer Rice called it) inside of her.

The fingers stopped drumming.

* * *

Captain Lillian Traz sat at the Conference table, staring down at the hot chocolate cup in front of her. It was steaming hot, but unlike her colleagues who preferred caffeinated beverages to wake up, she had no need of coffee to wake her up. No, she was actually pretty pissed, and the surge of emotions acted as adrenaline.

She had been having the most wonderful dream before being so rudely awoken by her falling on the floor. In it, she had just been approached by Toby Maguire, wearing his Spider-man suit from the Sam Rami flatvid _Spiderman Trilogy_ movies and had asked her out. She had always loved the Toby Maguire Spider-man over the ones that followed so she had been eager to say yes.

But….she didn't even get a _chance_! Oh no, she was awoken to find herself on the floor, her head somehow becoming wedge between her nightstand and bedframe. Luckily, she was far more agile and clear-minded than most people, and had been able to easily get her head out of that tight space. Even though it cost her a number of long hairs from her gorgeous head of dark brown hair!

The others already gathered at the table sensed her foul mood, so they didn't bug her with useless questions. Although she could sense that Mila Greks, her redoubtable Chief Science Officer and Second Officer was also rather put out by being forced awake. The Greek woman had never been one for rising earlier then the regular 0700 hours.

"Morning everyone!" a cheerful voice said, her Trill Diplomatic Officer stepping into the room. "Ready for a nice day?"

"Councilor," the Captain said in a low growl, one that was most unbecoming a lady. "If you don't sit down and shut up, I will have the Gorn throw you in the brig!"

The Trill laughed! The gall of the woman! Lillian stabbed daggers with her eyes as the other woman took her seat, sitting on her left hand two seats down. She lifted the cup, continuing to glare at the younger woman and put it to her lips. She sipped ever so little, as it was still hot. The fire of the hot liquid spilled down her gullet, warming her insides.

Doctor T'Lal, the Vulcan Chief Medical Officer was seated as well, next to the Science Officer. She looked too chipper for someone who had woken up! Captain Traz couldn't tell if she was trying to mock the Humans in the room by how composed she was. Sure, she wasn't human herself, she was Betazoid, but all she had to do was reach out with her far more developed empathic abilities to feel the other woman's cool and seemingly smug detachment.

The doors opened and in stepped the civilian garbed James Enviro. And her eyes widened at what she saw. He was wearing a shirt that he had forgotten to button in his haste to follow her commands to get to the transporter room, and she saw a row of nearly perfectly symmetrical abs. There was no hair to be seen as her eyes flicked up to his broad chest, she didn't even mind the small piece of Borg tech implants that could be seen centimeters above where his heart was. She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped a little too much. She grunted as she drank too much, burning the roof of her mouth.

 _Did he really have to see me like this?_ She asked herself. She knew her hair was out of place and there was the matter of the few hairs that were now gone, caught where the legs of the nightstand connected with the base of that piece of furniture.

Yet what she saw following him completely made her embarrassment rush out, replaced by annoyance. Two Romulans, both male and of similar height to her first officer, walked behind him. They were wearing the heavy grey woolen cloth of Romulan civilians, but the one who was evidently the leader, the one who walked behind, was exuding a near boyish excitement. It hit her empathic senses like a tidal wave.

That pissed her off even more. What right did he have to be excited? He nearly crashed her ship! The USS _Wayne_ had only received three torpedoes hits that had passed the shields in the entire seven years of her command and this Romulan fool nearly put a hole in her ship! It made her feel not in the slightest bit better as her Gorn Tactical and Security Chief Z'org stalked behind them, the raptor needing no one else to keep these two in line.

"Captain Lillian Traz," her First Officer said, flourishing his hand outwards to her. "Let me introduce Antonius" he indicated the first man, "and Alaric."

"Captain Traz!" Alaric said, a big and wild smile on his face. "I can't tell you how glad I am to meet-"

" _Sit down_."

The two Romulans glanced at each other, clearly surprised that a Federation Captain would be anything less than the vision of serenity. Yet that did nothing to stop them from sitting down. Although they did so as if expecting an explosive device to go off at any second.

"What is the matter with you two?" Traz asked, giving them her most sternest glare.

"What the Captain means," James said, swiveling his own chair around so he could sit. "Is what are you doing in Federation territory without permission? I assume that's why we received no prior word of your arrival."

"More importantly," Traz snarled, "Why did you nearly run into my ship? You would have been flattened like a pancake and there would have been a massive hole in my ship!"

She felt her First Officer more then saw him sighing with exasperation. The Romulans looked puzzled, and she was annoyed by that. Annoyed by the fact that they were puzzled by it! And that their puzzlement made her puzzled!

 _"'Flattened like a pancake'_?" Antonius asked with a frown.

"It's an Earth expression," Councilor Ziz explained. She was sitting the closest to them, as they had seated themselves close to her. "Pancakes are an Earth delicacy. They are pretty flat, so when they say, 'flattened like a pancake'…."

"Ah!" the Romulan leader, the one named Alaric exclaimed, understanding lighting up his face. "The Romulan equivalent is 'Noregh she'I' as you would translate it as, 'Reman flatness'. Understood. And I do apologize for the need to decloak right in-front of your ship. I sincerely hope that my ship's sudden appearance wasn't a problem. I would hate to think it caused any inconvenience."

"I find it illogical that you needed to decloak so close to the front of the ship," the Vulcan interjected before the Captain could make a snide comment. "You do realize that starships are not meant to break so hard from anything over one quarter impulse. It causes injuries."

"Injuries?" Antonius asked, frowning. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers as he did so.

"Sixteen crewmembers reported to my sickbay with fractured bones and another two dozen from injuries including lacerations sustained by the highspeed deceleration of the ship," the Vulcan doctor reported, reading it as if it were a menu she was ordering from.

The Romulan's face turned into a scowl, the motion having the absurd effect of making his protruding brow seeming to grow more. Although, Captain Traz probably could chalk it up to how tired she was. The Romulan turned to face the other one, who had a look of 'oops' on his face.

"Didn't I warn you not to have us do that so closely to this ship?" he said angrily. "But you said 'oh no, Antonius, don't be such a whiny little Reman'. You said no one could get hurt because of them being Federation ships!"

"But we still got their attention," Alarich rejoined defensively.

"That still doesn't explain why you needed our attention in the first place!" Traz said, cutting into the argument the two men were about to start having. "So let me ask you again, and please feel free to actually answer this time. What are you doing here in Federation space?"

Alarich gave a broad smile, one that spoke of only the best intentions. One that was meant to be disarming and put her at ease. And she hated it. Romulan smugness had never sat well with her, no matter if it was meant in good faith.

"My full name and rank is Scholar Imperator Alarich le'tr Honorius," he said in an exaggerated way. Always keeping the cheerful mood in his voice. "I am head of the Historical Society on Romulus. I am…."

"You wrote _'Eagles and Raptors: A Study of the Similarities of the Romulan Star Empire and Earth's Roman Empire'_ ," Commander Enviro interrupted him, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open in an astonishing mixture of surprise and delight.

The Romulan's broad grin dropped in an explosion of surprise from himself. "You, a Terran? You read my book?" he asked in no amount of incredulousness. "I didn't think people outside the Empire read my works."

"I actually have subscribed to the Romulan _Heeshva Neet'let Ru_ ," the Commander said. "I must say, I am more than honored to have you onboard our ship. I understand that your newest work is exploring how Iconia actually helped bring about the Great Schism."

"A Terran who reads the Romulan Archeological monthly publication," the Romulan said, putting a hand on his friends' shoulder and shaking him slightly. "See, Antonius? He can even help us in our research!"

"You've come here to explore the Iconian culture?" James asked. "They had no powerbase in this sector. The closest they ever came here was the edge of the Neutral Zone. And that's quiet a few light years from here."

"The below planet used to be owned by the Romulans as you know," the Romulan replied, waving his hand in a grand but vague gesture to where the planet would be in relation to the ship…..even though the windows to the conference room were currently showing nothing but the many, many stars beyond this particular system and that was where he was waving.

"Yesssss," the Gorn said, hissing the 's' as was his wont. "You pale sssskinssss claim everything was yourssss."

The younger Romulan turned glare at the Raptor, but the older man acted as if he hadn't heard. "When the Empire was at its height, a thousand years ago," he explained, "The different branches of government and head of the each division of public works was run on a different world. The Senate was located on Romulus. The military command was run out of Remes. The Tal Shiar was run off of another planet all together. The banks was located on a separate planet all its own.'

"The Imperial Library, one of the largest libraries ever seen in the galaxy, was located on the planet you call Yallada Prime. We called it Trelad back in the day. When the First Earth War, as you call the Romulan War came to an end in the 22nd Century, we agreed to surrender our right to many planets. Trelad was one of them. The people at the time didn't see the need to retrieve the library or the vast knowledge stored there. By that time, many of the agencies had started to concentrate their efforts on Romulus, but the Imperial Library was not one of them. Oh, they assumed that the new Library, the Romulan Central Database would be fine just using what was on personal data devices and new works being written. A lot of knowledge was lost when we abandoned the Library."

Mila frowned. "What you are saying is that a ton of knowledge is down below on the surface?" she asked, the Science Officer looking as if she was unable to accept that something of such massive scientific importance could be so easily disregarded by any race.

"Most specifically, the largest and most complete data collection on Iconia ever to be found," Antonius interjected before his boss could say anything more. "Even complete technical details and blueprints on the Iconia Gates."

"Are you serious!" James exclaimed, nearly jumping to his feet in his excitement.

Lillian looked at her first officer and saw the light in his eyes. The passion at what they were talking about. It was actually kinda cute to see him so wrapped up and engaged in what they were talking about. Yet, she knew that they hadn't yet completely answered her question.

"So what did you expect would happen if you dropped out of warp right infront of us?" she asked them.

"We wish to be allowed to go to the surface and find the Imperial Library. We understand that you are a group that it's easier to ask forgiveness then permission," Alarich said and he pulled out a PADD from a pocket in his grey tunic. "This is permission from the ProConsul Manet which gives me authority to share all data we uncover from the site regarding the Iconians and anything else we might discover."

He handed it over to James, who took it and handed it over with a twirl to the Captain. The Captain lifted the cup of coco to her lips, noting with disgust as she sipped that it had gone cold, taking on a consistency of light mud. The Romulans had even wasted her drink! There were several colorful phrases she could think of using in context of these filthy sneaky Romulans.

"We will of course be happy to agree to allow you," James said. "I'd also like to join you as well. I have always loved the Iconian Race. I remember reading the Eleventh Emperor Ajax Achilles' book _The Iconian Wars_ and it filled my dreams with fire and glory that nothing else ever had."

"If you liked the Emperor's book," the other Romulan was saying, "I could loan you my copy of _Iconian Shadows._ Praetor Batts I feel had a greater understanding of the impact of Iconia on the entire Quadrant. I would also suggest….."

It was only as they spoke that she realized that her second in command was talking about allowing them to do so. She had not approved it, it was her job to give approval. Her First Officer should have waited to have her give approval. Not do so himself, no matter how excited he was about something.

 _That_ would never do.

"I'm sorry," Lillian said sharply, cutting them both off. "I must first consult with Starfleet Command before I can agree to this. We need to see if they are equally as accepting of the idea as my First Officer is."

An unsteady silence fell over the table, as the Starfleet personnel realized that Commander Enviro had overstepped his boundaries. Everyone except T'Lal and Z'org. The Vulcan was staring intently at the Scholar Imperator and the Gorn seemed bored, his head dropped very slightly in a stupor. He had never been one who could keep interested in long periods of exposition.

"In the mean-time," Traz said, "You can stay on the _Wayne_ while I contact Starfleet Command and see if they will grant permission. In the meantime…"

"Not to be rude," Alarich interjected, holding up his hands. "We can just return to our ship. We don't wish to be an inconvenience."

"I insist," Traz said, her eyes narrowing. She was in no mood to be back-talked by these individuals, Romulans though they were. "Mister Z'org, see to it that out guests find their way to quest quarters."

"My pleasure, Captain," the Gorn hissed.

Alarich and Antonius rose, looking nervously towards the Gorn. He pointed towards the door and they shuffled on out, leaving the Starfleet personnel alone. Captain Traz waited until the door to the conference room had been closed before turning to address her senior staff.

"T'Lal," she began, "I want you to make sure that all people that were hurt are able to return to their posts as soon as possible. Councilor, see to it that our Romulan guests don't do anything foolish. Mr. Sele, if there is indeed a library down there, I want enough free data space on this ship to store as much possible data as we can. Let's get to it."

The officers began to rise but she fixed James Enviro with a look that told him he was not to leave. The others sensed this but left as hurried as they could. They didn't want to get wrapped up with whatever was going to happen. They held each other's gaze until the doors slid shut and they were alone.

Even then, they sat there, the moment stretching into something far more uncomfortable. But her First Officer didn't look away. He kept himself back erect. Under any other circumstance, she may have found it admirable. But now, she was simply not in a mood to be flattered, not even by his exposed and well-toned chest.

"I would have expected the sudden lack of decorum from a recent graduate of the Academy, but not from you," she said solemnly. "Commander, I understand that this is something of a fascination with what you have heard. I understand that finding an opportunity to be with something of an idol can be intimidating. But I am in command of this ship, and something like this needs me to give the permission. Not you."

"Forgive me, ma'am," he said, his face indeed showing his apologies. "I won't allow myself to be carried away. It's your right to make these calls."

"I'm not some ancient Earth SJW who feels that I am entitled," she explained. "This isn't about what's my right or not. Those two men? They are Romulans. Ever since the Shinzon Crises, it's been one bad thing after another with them. The Second Romulan War was only a few years back, and a lot of good people died in it. Simply put, this has much more dramatic geopolitical ramifications if we allow these people from a hostile enemy nation in our borders."

"I meant no disrespect, Captain," the Commander held up his hands towards her in acquiesce to her will. "I will try to keep my emotions in check."

"I'm not a Vulcan," she gave a half-smile. "Emotions are indeed welcome."


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

Captain Traz certainly felt more at ease as she stood before the console display on her wall. The display was opened to show an admiral leaning back in his chair back at Starfleet. It was Admiral Davees, and as always she was reminded of an elderly Ferengi. All he was missing was the massive ears.

" _You are certain that they are both archeologists?_ " he asked. " _I'd hate to think that we were dealing with Tal Shiar operatives. They've been rebuilding since the Dominion War_."

"I understand your concern but I trust my First Officer and his judgement," Jillian said, her mind flashing back irritably to his break in protocol simply because of this archeologist. "He is aware of at least Scholar Imperator Alarich and his credentials."

" _How is your first officer?_ " Davees asked. " _Is he fitting in with the crew? Any problems? We know he's been flagged as a potential Romulan supporter from his bi-monthly subscription to Romulan publicataions and purchase of Romulan books."_

Jillian felt her face harden. She didn't like what was being said about her First Officer. She found him more than capable of performing any tasks that had been assigned him. Perhaps he had a troubled past and his enthusiasm at times got the better of him. But he returned on her investment in spades.

"I trust his judgement. Implicitly."

Davees shrugged. " _Alright_ ," he said, a defensive edge in his tone. " _We will allow them access for one week. They are to have Starfleet personnel at all times accompanying them. We don't know what exactly is in this Library if there is anything indeed. Keep a close watch on them_."

"Don't worry, Admiral," Traz responded. "We will."

The communication line was shut down, replacing the Starfleet Command office with the Federation symbol and flashing in red 'Communication Closed'. She smiled, yes, she had just the person who would serve best in the capacity of babysitting the Romulans.

* * *

"I mean, how do we _know_ that indeed the Warp 10 Threshold was actually broken on _Voyager?_ " the Ensign asked, sitting at the mess-hall table. "I mean, there is no real proof of it. Most of the data was incomplete that was handed to Starfleet."

"W-w-why would a-a-anyone lie about that?" Ensign Tyler Daarth asked, looking over at the human female ensign.

"It is not logical that a Starfleet Captain would falsify a report like that," another member of the Flight Crew interjected.

"Don't tell me you believe it, Draga," the first ensign said, resting the fork against her plate. "Not only did Janeway claim they made it to Warp 10, but that it accelerated the human evolution. And the most evolved form of humanity? Giant salamanders."

"Zoo-zoo-zoology has t-t-theorized that e-e-evolution may not keep a f-f-forward p-p-progression," Tyler pointed out. He had enjoyed studying zoology in the Academy. It had been an elective course.

" _Salamanders_?" the woman asked with a scoff. "Salamanders are not evolved. We would be digressing in the evolution chain."

"A-a-as much as I-I-I would l-l-love to carry o-o-on this conversation," Tyler said, glancing at a large digital clock that hung from the wall, "M-m-my shift is a-a-about to s-s-start."

The Vulcan inclined his head to Tyler as he rose, and the female waved a hand dismissively. They continued on their argument over the Warp Ten Incident of _Voyager_ but he immediately tuned it out. He would soon be up at the bridge, sitting behind Navigation.

Honestly, he was much more interested in what a Romulan ship was doing in Federation space. The rumors had made their circulation, but there was nothing concrete. And as he wasn't a member of senior staff, most he would get is overhearing from the actual senior staff on what was going on.

"Pushing it a little close, Mr. Daarth," a voice said behind him and he turned to see Commander Enviro stepping up to his side. "Any closer and you may as well stay in bed."

"S-sorry sir," Tyler responded as they both stepped up to the turbolift. "I won't k-k-keep being c-c-close to being tardy."

"You're alright, ensign," the Commander assured him. The door to the lift opened, and a science officer exited the lift, yawning as he emerged. "So, tell me, how are you enjoying your first assignment."

"Good," the ensign responded. "Just t-t-trying to stay o-o-out of trouble, sir."

"Trust me, ensign," Enviro said, "Trouble find you in Starfleet. _Bridge._ " The turbolift began to ascend. "It's how you react when it happens that counts."

"Yes sir," Tyler responded and a silence fell between them. They didn't have too long to wait. Soon enough, the lift opened and they stepped out onto the bridge.

They had exited via the back of left turbolift and he once again marveled at the bridge. It was circular, the Flight Navigation and Operations both in a depressed level of the bridge. The Science Station was located on the left of the bridge on the forward side of the left turbolift. Tactical was on the bnack side of that lift and on their right hand side as they exited, Engineering was located.

As Tyler stepped up to his station, the Bolian that had been sitting there stood up and made as lazy bow towards ensign and swung his arms back. It was as if he was letting a royal personage enter their awaiting shuttle. He gave him an appreciative nod as he took the seat. It was warm from the Bolian's bottom, but he felt as the microfibers made subtle shifts to form the optimal seating for the Human ensign, to make his own bottom get the most amount of comfort and endurance that the seat could provide him.

He tapped a few buttons on the LCARS screen and it beeped, acknowledging his login.

"Mr. Daarth," Captain Traz called from her captain's chair. "I want you to keep us in geosynchronous orbit. I also want you to keep up with the Romulan shuttle in our forward view."

"Y-y-yes ma'am," he responded, and his fingers worked the controls. "M-m-maintaining orbit and p-p-position in r-r-relation of the R-R-Romulans."

"Commander," Captain Traz said, turning her attention to him. "Starfleet Command has decided to allow the Romulans to go study this library, if it actually exists."

"Alright," he nodded his head, scratching his beard. He had kept it closely shaven, but now it was itchy all the time.

"They will be allowed for one week to do any research that they can," she continued, "But they must be accompanied at all times by Starfleet personnel."

"I'm sure Z'org will love to babysit a bunch of Romulans," James said dryly.

"Perhaps," she gave a small smile. "But I was thinking perhaps you would like to."

"Me?" he asked, turning to her and frowning.

"You're the one who is familiar with the work that these two are doing," she pointed out, reaching out with her empathetic abilities towards him. "It's also my impression that you would enjoy being a part of this historic discovery."

A swell of interest and desire rose through the man. A smirk crossed his face. A light was on in his eyes, and she couldn't help but admit she liked to see that spark.

"Dear Captain, are you using your empathetic abilities on me?" he asked.

She put on a wounded face and put a hand to her upper chest, batting her eyelashes to him. "My dear sir," she said with an air of fake offense, "Are you implying that I would ever do such a thing?"

"You are right," he chuckled, "I would love to."

He swung to face the Science station. "Mila, what is the atmosphere down there?" he asked.

"Looks like 80% oxygen nitrogen and 20% zinc," she replied, reading from a section of her screen just above her head. "You can breathe without needing any breathing devices, but your throat may start feeling a little clammy after a while."

"I see," he said, rubbing his chin. "Captain, with your permission, I'd like to compile a list of all personnel that have hobbies in archeology. Then I'd like to take them down to the surface."

"Be my guest," she waved a hand.

"Computer," he called out, "Create a lift of all crewmembers who have archeological hobbies and have them downloaded to the briefing room console screen."

"Affirmative," came the response. "Compiling list now."

With that, he stood up and taking his leave, headed for the briefing room.

* * *

Seven members of the crew had gathered in the Briefing Room in about two hours. He specifically chose each and every one of them due to having taken Archeology much more than just a passing fancy. They either had current subscriptions to Archeology magazine or they had spent time at dig sites. Or they had spent a good deal of time at historical sites.

One of them sitting in the crowd was Lt. Commander Tano, head of Operations. He had personally asked her if she wanted to accompany them, as she was a senior officer and didn't have to. She said she was delighted, although her main areas was Korean Archeology and not so much non-Terran archeology. She sat with arms crossed, bouncing a foot up and down. She didn't count as one of the seven, those seven being strictly non-senior staff members.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he began but one of the crewmembers let out a big yawn. He turned to the crewman, an Andorian named Shran Doog'ren.

"I don't see what's so good about it, Commander," the Security officer yawned loudly. "I was in the middle of a good dream involving a foursome."

"Forgive me for interrupting any lewd dreams you may have been having," James rolled his eyes, "But you are all gathered here because of a good, healthy hobby of archeology. As you may have noticed, we have two Romulan guests."

"I'm sure they can understand the value of a good foursome," Shran commented loudly.

The two Romulan men had been sitting at the head of the room. Alarich blinked a few times. Antonius wasn't even paying attention, instead, he appeared to be doodling on his PADD.

"Trust me," he said, "When you get to be my age, even a onesome feels tiresome."

"According to the Scholar Imperator Alarich," the Commander continued, hoping to get through this briefing without interruption, "Yallada Prime houses a massive ancient Romulan imperial library. It is the belief that we may be able to discover within it's contents many pieces of information about Iconian technology, including how it's gateways were created."

"Oh!" the crewman said sarcastically, throwing up his hands in elaborate surprise. "Why didn't you start off with that, Commander? If you had said Iconian gateway technology, I wouldn't have mentioned the dreams!"

The gathered crew chuckled at the comment. The Andorian threw looks around, grinning at the obvious success of his witty comments. James, however, was not at all pleased. Perhaps he thought he was being funny. But James found it disrespectful on all levels.

He glanced sideways at Command Tano. She was scowling, biting her tongue as she glanced sideways at Shran. She obviously found this borderline insubordination. But she was holding her tongue in respect for the First Officer.

"Crewman Doog'ren!" James snapped his voice deadly serious. He gripped the edges of the podium he stood behind and glared at him. "This is the third time that you have made a comment without being given permission. Do it again, and I will be forced to relieve you do duty and restrict you to quarters. Do I make myself clear?"

Most of the crew snapped to attention, feeling the rebuke personally. A few glanced at the Andorian with pleading look in their eyes. James felt that the man would press his luck. A smug smile appeared on the Andorian's face as if a comment was about to exit his mouth.

"The next words I want to hear is 'Yes' and 'Sir'," James said sternly.

"Yes and sir," the Andorian replied sarcastically.

"Don't you smart mouth me, crewman," James barked.

"Sorry sir," the Andorian replied, but his voice most _certainly_ was not sincere. "I will try not to again."

The two looked at each other, locking eyes. The Andorian was clearly fighting to keep his own emotions in check. But at long last the battle of wills subsided as the Andorian looked away.

"Good," James said, rounding his shoulders and standing to his full height. "Now, we will be breaking it into groups of two. I want the groups…."

He stopped as the door to the Briefing Room opened. Who was interrupting his briefing _this time._ In stepped the shorter form of Council Ziz. Judy was walking in wearing clothing that looked more fit for a safari than aboard a Starfleet vessel. The entire room turned to look at her.

"Don't mind me!" she said brightly, grabbing the back of a chair and lifting it, plopped it right next to Commander Tano. "Sorry I am late. Continue."

"Can I help you with something Councilor?" James asked.

"I hear you are going down to the Imperial Library and I would like to join," Judy replied brightly. "Continue on."

James scowled at her wondering what her _real_ reason for being here was. But he rolled his eyes and returned to the group before him.

"As I was saying, we will be breaking in groups of two, and you will be assigned to either myself or Lieutenant Commander Tano," he said, continuing his briefing. "I will be giving you your assignments of your partner and to encourage greater department cooperation, you will paired up with someone not of your own department. I know we all like maintaining our own little clichés, but I think we can find greater cooperation. Luckily for us, since the Councilor has joined us, one of you will be able to work directly with her. If that's ok with you, Councilor."

"I am at your disposal," she nodded her head.

"Alright," he nodded. "Be in archeological uniforms and at Transporter Room Two in one hour. Dismissed."

The crew stood up and began heading out. Commander Enviro could hear Crewman Doog-ren making snide comments to a fellow crewman which made him both laugh and glance over his shoulder at the First Officer guiltily. Commander Tano stood up to leave as well and as soon as she turned her back, James looked to the Councilor and wiggled his finger, indicating that Judy should step up to him.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, stepping up to him with an innocent expression on her face.

He glanced sideways at the Romulans, who had fallen into hushed conversation with each other. He jerked his head to a corner. He walked towards the corner, looking towards it as she stepped up to his side.

"May I inquire what you are thinking?"

"Thinking?"

"I checked the entire crew," James explained, looking over at her. "Your name didn't come up with any interest in archeology."

"Oh no!" she agreed, holding up both of her hands. "Not one of my six hosts have ever had any interest with digging up the past. As my second host, Kurzon Ziz would say, 'The past is done with'."

"Then why are you joining the expedition?" he asked.

"Because you won't make an appointment with me, sir," she responded. "It's my duty as councilor to make sure everyone is fit for duty. As you won't make an appointment, this may by my only way to evaluate your performance."

"So you are babysitting me?" he scowled. He didn't like that one bit.

"Also," she said. "I want to see how the crew reacts to you on assignment. Many of them have….hard feelings towards you. I'll be able to help with them. Also…." She held up a hand to forestall any arguments, "as Ship's Ambassador, it is my duty to help smooth over relations with the Romulans. Make it a smoother time for everyone."

James couldn't argue with that. He wasn't sure what she meant by people having a hard time with him. He was a Starfleet officer as they all were. But, he couldn't argue her logic. It was almost Vulcan-like.

"Alright," he shrugged, giving in. "You are already dressed the part."

She gave a big smile and turning, skipped from the room. He shook his head as he turned to the Romulans. They had magically ended their conversation as she left. Not the most tactful display to be sure. Alright, show time.


	4. Act 3

**Act 3**

 _Commander Log – Stardate 66158.97: Using the coordinates provided by Imperator Scholar Alarich, we have already discovered the Imperial Library. Now, we just have to discover how to get inside it._

Two crewmen stood side by side. One was a human male by the name of Chigger who was in Security and the other was an engineer by the last name of Woods. The engineer had a tri-corder out and was scanning, inputting new calculations. The other one was kneeling in front of a key combination lock, his fingers ready to move.

"Give 0-0-9-9-2-1-5 a try," Wood said to Chigger.

Chigger input the combination. They had been forced to use a portable power unit to generate power within the unit. It had taken an hour for the ancient device to get enough juice to even start waking. Another two for it be fully charged enough to start accepting key-inputs.

The lock gave a triple flash of dark red and the mechanical voice again intoned something in ancient Romulan. Unlike the more modern dialect, this one was a bastard-child of ancient Vulcan and Romulan.

"I guess that wasn't it," Chigger said, rubbing is forehead. "How many more combinations could this possible have?"

"Well," Wood said, beginning a new calculation, "That is number twelve. If indeed we can do the same digit multiple times in the code, that means we have 99,999,988 combinations left."

"You're almost Vulcan in your calculations," the Security officer said dryly.

"Let's hope not," James said, standing behind them. "Because it's already been five minutes to go through 12 different codes. That means it would take us over 333 thousand minutes."

"To be more precise," the singular Vulcan in their group piped up, standing with arms behind his back next to his partner, a Bolian female who was picking her nose, not at all caring that people were watching her. "It would be 5,555 hours, 33 minutes and 33 seconds to go through all the possible numbers. Or, if you would like, 231 days, 9 hours and 39 minutes."

"But we aren't going to be here that long," the Commander said aloud. "Think happy thoughts gentlemen and women. We only have seven days."

"I would-"

"As much as we would like to hear the precise amount of time, I think we'll pass for now, Mr. Ho'to," James smiled, interrupting the Vulcan. "Mr. Ho'to, would you take your scientific expertise and take Miss Stor with you and work on getting a map of every inch of the outer limits of the library as we can."

"Yes, sir," Ho'to said, and holding out his hand, pulled the female Bolian to her feet. He gave a disgusted look as he stuck her booger laden finger in her mouth and sucked it, swallowing it. With that, they both headed off.

The entire area in-front of the library was set in deep caves. They had been forced to hike down from a kilometer above, and yet even as they stood infront of the library, the walls dwarfed the entire team. The walls stood nearly fifteen meters in height and the door they were currently trying to open was easily five meters tall by six across.

"Mr. Honorius," he called to Alarich, who was reading something on a data padd. The older man looked up towards him as he made the few steps up to him. "Why did the Romulans have a coded entry to the Library? Was this installed before the First Romulan War? Or was this after the treaty?"

"Oh no," the Romulan shook his head. "Knowledge is one of the most guarded commodities of the Romulan Star Empire. Only one in ten thousand ever had been given the access code to enter the Library. It was one of the reasons the government felt so secure in its decision to abandon it after the treaty. Trelada was known by most people, but few actually knew the location of the Library. Most people wouldn't have been able to steal the data even if they wanted to."

A sound of grunting made James turn to see Commander Tano emerge, followed by a human female. She was covered in dirt, and the bottom of her pants were wet.

"What happened to you?" James asked, frowning at them.

"There is a massive lake that cuts below this layer of the cave," Tano responded, slapping the legs of her pants. A little bit of dirt rose from it, but not enough to make a difference. "It appears that a type of shark is in the water."

"Shark?" one of the lounging crewman asked, her eyes growing wide.

"They must be new," Alarich said. "There were no sharks on the planet when it was abandoned by the Empire."

"Sharks don't concern us," Antonius called out. He stood on the top rung of a ladder, having climbed as far up as he could on the library's walls. There appeared to be windows about ten meters above the ground. "Unless they bring us a nice, juicy steak."

"Is it possible that the Federation decided to transplant some animal species here, not knowing what else to do with it?" Alarich asked.

James shook his head. "Not Federation procedure to interject animals in planetary ecosystems that aren't native or compatible with the creatures." He turned his full attention to the Romulan who was starting on his way down from the ladder. "Did you manage to see anything?"

"Not real windows," he shook his head. He dropped the last two rungs to the ground and made a flourishing bow. "Their just decorative depressions made into the stonework and painted black."

"Paint?" the lounging crewman asked. "Me and Ensign Taggard scanned it earlier and we didn't come up with anything besides rock."

"When it comes to archeology," Alarich replied, pushing himself to his feet, "Paint actually doesn't come up on scanners. It's actually rather strange. How goes the code breaking?"

"Still no luck," Chigger replied.

"I have an idea," Alarich lifted his finger, stepping up to the panel, "If I may."

"Be my guest," Chigger responded, pushing himself to a standing position and stepping to the side.

"It's just a theory, but there were some cases where the current emperor's birthday was used to create the passcodes for Imperial buildings," the Romulan said. James stepped up to his side. "If I am correct, all we would need do is to input the date of the Emperor at that time. That would be the 22nd….no, the 23rd Emperor, the Emperor Janus Jupiter. Let's see….no, not that. Maybe….alright, not like that. Year, month, day and hour? Yes!"

With a triumphant shout, the keylock flashed green. The large doors began to rumble, slowly creaking open. The doors would falter and stop, hesitating even few millimeters as the ancient, rusted doors slid open. The sound of the doors opening brought all the Starfleet personnel running to watch the doors open.

Then, at long last, the door finally came fully open. In middle of the doorway appeared a hologram of an ancient Romulan. The hologram flickered in and out, disrupted to the point that it barely had any cohesion.

"Woods, can you boost the signal and clean it up?" James asked.

"No," the engineer shook his head. "It's just too weak."

"Maybe if the order had happened sooner maybe it would snapped to," Shran commented, coming up behind them.

James rolled his eyes. The hologram died out and with that, James led the way into the Library. As they entered, lights along the walls flickered, shuddering to come fully to power. As the lights started to illuminate more fully, it began to throw light onto a small vestibule that was round, but beyond it, they could see a massive opening which as the lights slowly worked their way on, revealed a massive chamber.

Stepping out into the main chamber, they were suddenly greeted with a many levels, running both up and down.

"Welcome, to the Great Imperial Library of the Romulan Star Empire!" Alarich said, grabbing a handrail and looking in awe at what lay before them.

* * *

"Commander Tano," James said, turning to the Korean officer. "I want you to take your teams and head down to the lowest level you can go. Start collecting data on the types of materials are down there. Catalogue which ones can be teleported and which ones would need to shipped via transports. Also which ones are too damaged to be recovered."

"Yes sir," Yoshi said, snapping a finger and bringing in the attention of her three teams. "I'd also like to start doing some tests to see just how old the manuscripts are."

"To get an idea of just how old the library is," James smiled.

"Exactly," Tano nodded.

"I like it," he put a hand on her shoulder. "The rest of the teams will head to the top most level and do the same thing. Councilor Ziz, all teams will report to you."

"If you say so," the Councilor said. "I am beginning to be fascinated by the air of excitement that seems to have spiked."

"Oh, history is exciting!" Alarich said, rubbing his hands together. There was a gleam in his eye as he spoke. He walked slowly, as if in a trance. "Great generals leading vast armies on the distant battlefields of the forgotten past."

"And best be forgotten," Antonius interjected.

"Great philosophers contemplating existence…."

"Pretty sure they were high at the time…."

"Great engines of industry discovered through sheer accident…"

"The only great engines I care about is the one that makes ship jump to warp and which make strong Romulan ale…."

"Debates that the very words fired the souls to create revolutions of both political and spiritual…."

"That or just give people a really good sleep."

"Are you quite finished?' Alarich snapped, turning to his younger colleague.

The younger Romulan thought for a second. He pressed his lips. Looked as if he were constipated than nodded.

"Yeah, I think I'm done," Antonius shrugged.

There was the sound of a chirping. James cleared his throat. Someone from the ship was trying to contact them. He tapped his commbadge.

"Commander Enviro here."

" _Commander, how is everything going down there?"_

"Just fine, Captain," he eagerly reported. "We just entered the Library. Took us a while to figure out how to get inside. But we are about to…."

" _It'll give you a good start tomorrow."_

He frowned, glancing at Tano. She also seemed confused and shrugged.

"Captain?"

" _Commander, it's 1900 hours_ ," the Captain informed him. " _You don't think I was going to allow you to stay down there all night now, did you?_ "

He closed his eyes. He had completely lost track of the time. He heard Shran in the background making a low comment to some of his fellow crewmates who chuckled nervously. James threw a quick look over his shoulder and saw Shran trying to hide a smirk from him.

"Well," James began hopefully, "If you wouldn't mind. We just barely make access. If you wouldn't mind me keeping a few crew down here to keep working. They can camp down here."

" _Your enthusiasm is noted, Commander. But rules must be followed."_

James threw a look at Tano who threw her hands up defeatedly. He glanced over at Ziz whose eyes had focused on the Andorian. He didn't like abandoning the mission, especially when they had just made some headway. But there was nothing to it. He would just have to settle with the fact they found a lake with a shark in it.

"Of course," he agreed. "We'll be up soon."

* * *

 _"Mr. Thomas?"_

 _"That's right."_

 _"My name is T.J. Giles and this is my associate, Ezra Parker."_

 _"Howd you do. This is Short Grub."_

 _"We're out of the US Army Purchasing Office at Fort Clark and we understand that you have some horses to show us."_

The John Wayne movie _The Undefeated_ played in the background as steam rose from the pots that were boiling. Captain Traz glanced up from the boiling water, using a spatula to push down the long noodles. The door chime beeped and she peered through the billows of steam that made it near impossible to see the door.

"Come in," she called.

The door slid open and in stepped Commander Enviro. Through the steam she could tell he was wearing his uniform, and she could almost swear that it was a new one. She had hoped he would come in his dirty uniform, get a good glimpse at him filthy, but she was out of luck.

"Am I early?" he asked, hesitating and looking at the Captain as she moved to the pan, which had brown juice that was bubbling between the meatballs she had cooking.

"Not at all!" she said brightly. "Actually, I'm just a little behind. Spaghetti and meatballs. One of the first things I learned to cook with my foster family."

James shook his head, glancing sideways at the movie. _"We'll cull your herd tomorrow as soon as our wranglers arrive from Bracketville."_ He shrugged as he took a seat at the glass table. He still hadn't acquired the taste for the old vids like she had.

"Isn't there some data that states that actual food prep actually is unhealthy?" he asked her.

"Don't believe a word of it!" she said. She lifted the pot and poured the hot water and noodles into a strainer. She was one of the few people on the Norway-Class vessel that had an actual sink with a faucet. Unlike the old Earth technology of pipes, the water went down to a recycler that scrubbed the water of all bacteria and returned it to a ten-gallon reservoir of water. "That's just one more attempt by our modern society to move us from our roots! Thinking of roots, how was your trip?"

"I can't wait to start tomorrow really mining into the Library to see what secrets lie within," he said, his face looking similar to that of a child about to get his first kitty. "I hope that we can transport most of the material directly here by transporter, but many may end up having to be manual shipped up here."

"So what is it about archeology that fascinates you so?" she asked. She now stirred the spaghetti and meatballs together in a spaghetti sauce made of real tomatoes, oregano and thyme spices. "It's a whole bunch of digging around in dirt. It's not like this ancient Earth movie where you can actually see what was happening. Most of it is guesswork."

 _"I have 3,000 for sale. Not 500."_

 _"Well, surely you don't expect us to buy any old horse for the United States Army."_

"Even this movie is just an interpretation of the past," James replied. "But when you are actually there, you are able to put your hand on the item. Feel the past in your hands. It doesn't matter if you don't understand the exact context of the item, it's the fact that you have it in your hands. I mean, take the Atlantis Project. They've finally found concrete evidence of where it is and what happened to it."

"But how does that help us in the now?" she asked, grabbing the handles of the pot and lifting it. James tried to stand but she shook her head. "I got it James, thanks."

"Every piece of the past gives us an opportunity to learn and prevent the catastrophes of the past by learning what was good and what was weak." He said, sitting back and his eyes taking on a glazed look. "To handle the items is similar to standing next to the original owner. To walk the battlefield you can almost imagine yourself in the middle of the army. To see the great men and women of the past coming together to create what the moments that led to us. Imagine the thoughts, arguments, well-wishes that each item overheard."

"They are inanimate objects" she replied, sitting down and spooning herself a nice helping of spaghetti. "They can't tell you anything."

"But a leaf is the greatest story of all," he held up a finger, his face eager. "It is a conduit by which every possible story that may have happened, had actually happened and what _could_ have been is all there."

She smiled. "I think someone watched _Doctor Who_ ," she teased him. She laughed at the flush on his face. "So, how was the crew?"

"Ah," he said, his elation falling. "Is there a problem that I should be aware with Crewman Doog-ren?"

"I don't think so," she replied.

She looked at him, and seeing the look on his face, she reached out with her empathetic abilities. She could tell the consternation in her First Officer. Whatever it was that had happened, it clearly was bothering him.

"I have not heard of one complaint since he came on board three years ago," she said. "Is there an issue that _I_ need to be aware of?"

"Well," he shrugged, scooping up food of his own. "He kept interrupting me during the briefing. He also kept making snide comments. I don't know if he thinks he's the class clown or not."

"Well, he's got a good wit about him," she replied. "But interrupting a senior officer? He finished third place in his class at the Starfleet Security Academy on Vulcan. I don't see why he should."

He leaned back, folding his arms as he did and thinking. Lillian didn't like this side of her First Officer. Troubled and indecisive.

"If there is an issue, you need to resolve it," she gently but firmly pointed out.

"Maybe he just needs to work whatever's in his system out," he shook his head. "I'll keep you appraised if there is anything more concrete."


	5. Act 4

**Act 4**

"Computer, end program!"

The holographic lake vanished and with a thud, Tyler Daarth and Mary Crest fell hard to the holodeck floor. Yet even with the vanishing of the lack and the return to the real-world environment of the square room on the ship, they were both soaking wet. Tyler leaned over, coughing out water.

It was the strangest contradiction of the holodeck. Water, food, dirt, none of it was real. It was merely an illusion of photons and forcefields. And yet one could live one the food a holodeck could create. And even when it was turned off, any elements like water would not vanish but keep them soaked.

"I told you that standing in the rowboat wouldn't be a good idea," Mary said. She had landed on her back.

"S-sorry," Tyler replied, wiping away the edge of his mouth.

"If you had only listened to me I wouldn't be waterlogged at the moment," she continued, her annoyance making her tone clipped.

Tyler stood up, rubbing his forearm as he reached out to her. "It was an a-accident," he said holding him arm to her.

"No, don't apologize," she said, taking the proffered hand and standing. "Perhaps it was my fault. Shouldn't have used such a small design for the rowboat. Next time, I'll get a bigger one. With better buoyance."

As she stood, she swayed slightly. She squinted and blinked a few times. He frowned but didn't press for details. He didn't want to have to worry about getting his head bitten off.

"Well, I need to write my monthly Operations reports for Commander Tano anyways," she said as they headed to the holodeck room's door. "Want to stop by my quarters later tonight for a bite?"

"P-probably should work on my f-flight report," he responded.

The door slid open to the corridor. It was empty for the most part, beyond an engineer who was working at the exposed innards of a console. As they walked past him, water dripping from their soaked forms onto the hard carpet, Mary cleared her throat.

"You know something that I've noticed?"

"What?"

"You don't stammer that much when we are talking together," Mary said. "When you are with others, you stammer more, but not with me."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah. My little brother used to do it as a kid as well. When he was comfortable with someone, his speech was stronger."

"P-perhaps," he shrugged. "I r-really couldn't tell for c-certain if that has anything to d-do with it."

They walked up to the turbolift door and it opened. Two Romulan men stepped out, bickering about something that wasn't clear to Tyler. But they were so wrapped up with whatever they were arguing about that they didn't notice Tyler or his girlfriend until the older of the two men ran hard against his shoulder.

"Sorry!" the Romulan man said, turning to give only the slightest attention to them. "Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Tyler called after them. Yet by the time he had gotten it out, they were almost out of range of hearing. He turned to Mary. "S-so, you were s-saying?"

* * *

" _Commander, whenever you decide, cargo bay 2 is ready to send up any manuscripts that you want to send up."_

"Good job, Sele," James replied over the comm. "We'll let you know when we're ready."

He turned to focus his attention on the teams. With the Romulan Antonius whom he assumed was an acolyte helping them divide the manuscripts between various categories, the teams were all but rotating in a living escalator carrying the ancient books and data rods. He felt a hand grab his arm.

He turned to see Alarich standing behind him. "If you please, I have something very interesting to show you."

"Alright," he said, turning to follow the other man.

The Romulan eagerly pulled at his arm, leading him to where he had his own workspace set up near a sidewall. An ancient light attached to the wall flickered down on the stack of parchments that lay, the papers long since having become separated from the leather spine.

"Do you recall my conclusion in _Eagles and Raptors_?" he asked, sorting through the pages as he talked.

"I believe that you said that it was your conclusion that the vast amount of similarities were only explainable if there was a common ancestor," James said, looking with intrigue at the papers the Romulan was shuffling through.

"Similar to how Romulans and Vulcans are related and evolution itself," Alarich said, flipping through the pages looking for something in particular. "The main criticism came from those of the Romulan Historical Society who believes in Romulan greatness. But many claimed that we had no proof of common ancestry besides similarities. Ah…here it is. Read this."

James grabbed the piece of parchment gingerly. He was surprised by just how good condition the ancient paper was. But he started to read from the paper. Well…..not really read. It was in an ancient Romulan script that he couldn't decipher.

"My own archeological interests did not cover the Romulan alphabet," he explained to the older man.

Alarich rolled his eyes and began muttering a few words that the Universal Translator couldn't, or wouldn't, translate. He pointed to a section of the page.

"This entire book was compiled by early state-appointed official Romulan Star Empire historians," he explained. "In this page, the historian Artorius le'tr Rhine writes a detailed account of the founders of the Romulan Empire. This man claims to have access to a first-hand account of the earliest days of the Empire. According to him, two men not of Romulan or Vulcan blood appeared to them during the great schism. Two brothers who were of a similar height to them and between them stood a female animal that they have no word for.

"These two men claimed to come from a planet far away and they had come to lead the early Romulans to a homeworld. They helped set the laws and form the very fabric of Romulan society. What's most interesting is that these two brothers called themselves Romulus and Remes."

James looked up at him, his eyes wide. But he shook his head. No, no. They couldn't be the same people.

"Romulus murdered his brother Remes for jumping over his wall, as the stories tell," he held up his hand to stall any such thought. "The historical record even states that they died."

"According to the legends, Romulus and Remes were raised by a she-wolf," Alarich reminded him. "Is it not possible that they were clones? Or that they were simply aliens who pretended to die to allow them to leave after their work was completed."

James wasn't sure what to think of that. There were certainly races that could have done such a thing. Even some Starfleet personnel on evolving worlds would pretend to die as the singular method of getting away from the natives. They'd then be teleported to a ship and then escape, none the wiser.

"Even if this is true," James argued, "We are looking at an entirely new theory of galactic evolution."

"My theory is Iconian interference," Alarich said. "Members of the Iconian Race could have used their gateways to go to random planets and help them in their planetary evolution. It's part of the 'Road Builder Theory' that I've proposed the past few years in the _Heeshva Neet'let Ru._ If I can just restore a few more of these pages, I will be able to tell for certain."

"Restore?" James asked.

"Yes," Alarich said excitedly. "The Romulan Historical Society has developed technology to restore the ink on old parchment and to either reinforce the existing paper or preserve the text so we can transfer it onto new papers."

James folded his arms, knowing what he was talking about. He had read about this device, called a 'Retainer' (which wasn't the most glamorous name). It used a scanner that read into the molecular structure of the ink in question and basically spruced it up, sharpening it. It did the same thing for paper. From the article " _Tools of the Trade"_ from last years first issue of _Heeshva Neet'let Ru,_ it had only been around for a decade but was all the rage and considered to be one of the most essential tools in the archeological toolkit.

Ironically, this "most essential tool" couldn't be purchased by someone not a Romulan.

"What happened to my Retainer?" Alarich asked suddenly, looking around the table. He leaned over to look at the ground.

"It's not here?" James asked. He actually didn't know what one looked like. The only retainer he had ever seen was a disgusting piece of old Earth tech for straightening teeth.

"No!" he said angry and frustrated, standing and pointing to the table at a location he felt he had put it. "It was right here!"

"Maybe someone accidentally borrowed it," James said.

"Stole it, more likely!" Alarich said, snarling as he turned to James.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't accuse my people of being thieves," James scowled.

He turned to look towards the crewmembers. Four of them were currently sorting through the old books and piling ancient data rods in such a way that they wouldn't fall. He walked up to them, the closest one being Ho'to.

"Mr. Hoto," he said, "Did anyone approach the Imperator Scholar's table in the past little while?"

The Vulcan shrugged. "I am unaware of anyone besides you and the Romulan," he replied.

"Did any of you see someone standing over there besides us?" he asked, turning to the rest of the group.

The group all gave a negative. No one had seen anything. Stor the Bolian however felt this was the appropriate time to complain that the dust was having a bad effect on her blue-skin. James wasn't sure that was relevant. He tapped his commlink.

"Commander Enviro to all teams on planet," he called. "Has anyone been near the Scholar Imperator table and picked up anything that doesn't belong to them?"

Again, a round of negatives. No one had been near it. He rolled his eyes. Well, that wasn't helping out anything. He turned to assure the Romulan that there was no need to worry. They'd find it. The man was irritable, huffing and puffing and James let out a sigh. He wasn't exactly happy about telling him that he probably just misplaced the retainer.

"Commander," the Councilor called to him.

He tried not to let out a sigh of exasperation. "I'm really not in the mood for a command evaluation, Councilor," he told her.

"My," she gave a smirk, "Aren't we a little defensive. No, that wasn't it at all." She slid her arm through his, interlocking them together. "I think I saw Crewman Doog'ren standing next to it not too long ago. He's worth talking to."

Shran? Well, now that he thought about it, he _hadn't_ responded. A quick call to the rest of the crew told him Shran had been working in one of the upper levels. Shran had been nothing but a nuisance ever since he was brought into the mission.

"Crewman Doog'ren, please respond."

No answer.

"Crewman, respond."

Still no answer. Grinding his teeth, he set off, the Councilor walking next to him. He glanced down at her arm, which remained linked with his own. Her face remained plastered with her annoying look of smug innocence.

"What?" he finally asked.

"I'm pleased with how most of the crew has reacted to your command," she informed him. "Most are responding quiet smoothly."

"They are Starfleet," he pointed out. "It's in our training to accept the command of those above us."

"Usually that is the case," she agreed. "We adapt easily to changes in the command structure. Just like the Borg."

James grimaced at that. His own experience with the Borg didn't exactly inspire warm feelings towards them, even in jest. They reached an ancient lift. It creaked mightily, grunting in protest as it was forced to ascend after centuries of sleeping.

"Then, there is the case where some are not happy about the change," Judy continued. "It's either something personal or they just don't like the new officer. Something about them rubs them the wrong way. Although," she said with a small smile playing across her face, "the officer _shouldn't_ be rubbing them in the first place."

"What are you talking about, Judy?" he frowned, "You are making no sense."

"Actually, I am," she retorted, the lift shuddering almost to a halt before picking back up speed. "Most of the crew has followed you without a problem. But Crewman Doog'ren, I have sensed a great deal of hostility towards you."

He glanced sideways at her, frowning. What she said didn't make a lot of sense. What also didn't make sense was how she seemed to be nearly perfectly clean. How had she managed to stay here in this old reliquary without gaining so much as a dirt smudge on her otherwise flawless physique.

"I haven't done anything to warrant such feelings," he replied, scowling as he turned away from her. "I thought it was just regular attitude."

"No," she shook her head. "He's exhibiting all the classical signs of personal passive hostility towards you."

If James could have frowned any harder, he may have looked like a human pug. What could he have done to earn the hostility of anyone on the crew? He knew that his reputation of being a survivor on multiple ships had not exactly ingratiated himself within their little starship dynamic. But he couldn't imagine anything that would cause anyone to take a personal issue with him.

The lift came to a shuddering halt. He and Judy stepped off the lift, this particular level a bit more darkened than other levels. As he stepped off, he saw rust-colored haired Bajoran woman in science department colors glance up towards the newcomers. She had a small device in her hands, which looked oddly similar to a Cardassian neural probe.

"Commander, Councilor." She greeted them. Standing straight up and brushing a single hair out of her eyes, she rounded her shoulders, projecting her rather supple bosom towards them. "What can I do for you?"

"What is that in your hands?" Enviro asked, pointing towards the device she had to her side.

"Oh, this is a remarkable device," the science officer said, holding it up so he could inspect it. "It's making the words jump out of the…."

"This is property of the Scholar Imperator," he shot his hand out and took it from her. The device was heavier than he had assumed at first glance. "Where did you get it?"

"Shran gave it to me," she replied, reaching up again to brush the loose hair out of her eyes. "He went off to get more manuscripts but he said he had permission to use it."

"Well, he didn't, Crewman," he retorted.

He looked around, seeing if he could see the Andorian. Even as he looked, Shran appeared around the corner of a row of books. In his hands were nearly a dozen tomes. Each one was thick, at the very least 7.6 centimeters. The security officer seemed pleased with himself.

"I have here a few very nice Bajoran texts," he was saying, stepping towards the table. "I didn't realize that the Romulans collected alien works-"

He came to a dead stop, his eyes wide with surprise at seeing the Commander standing there, the Councilor standing off to the side. His antennae shot up and outwards at his shock. Yet he recovered quickly, his antennae curling downwards.

"Commander," he greeted him, finishing his walk to the table. "What brings you to our little cozy workspace?"

"I called you over comms a few minutes ago," James told him. He saw the Andorian slowly put the books on the table. He didn't think that it was simply careful handling of the ancient texts that drove his slow movements. "Why did you not respond?"

"I didn't want to bore you with my lackluster response, Commander…." He began, giving a very innocent smile.

"When an officer tells you to respond, you _respond_ ," James cut off his witty response. He narrowed his eyes at the Andorian, who held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Do we have a problem, crewman?"

"No problem, Commander," he put his hand on his breast. "Now if you will excuse me, I have more books to collect."

"Stand where you are!" James barked the command.

The Andorian's eyes narrowed as he snapped to an exaggerated attention. His antennae curled like a snake about to strike. James didn't need to be a telepath to feel the hatred rolling from the security officer.

"Ever since you have been assigned to this mission, you have been sarcastic, making snide comments and making jokes which clearly make people uncomfortable. So there is clearly a problem, and I would have us clear the air."

"I do have a problem," Shrawn said, his face turning hard as diamond. "My problem is you, Enviro."

James nearly lost his own poker face he had. He really didn't know why he was so shocked. Ziz had _told_ him as much. But to actually hear it made it somehow more real.

Yet he did not falter. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side.

"Elaborate."

"I know all about your reputation, Enviro," he said, again not adding the title. James couldn't be sure if it was intentional or if in his anger he had simply forgotten to. "Three ships have already gone down, and yet somehow you emerge without a scratch. You are like a bad penny, not wanted yet can't get rid of. We all have been anxious about when you'll start killing us all."

"Crewman…." The Councilor started but James threw up a hand to stop her.

"Crewman Doog'ren," he said, trying to keep his temper under control. "I haven't killed a single person."

"Tell that to U'lyrk!" he shouted. James frowned, and lifting a finger the Andorian thrust a finger at him accusingly. "U'lyrk Zekstra. You killed her!"

A cold feeling like ice formed in James' stomach. So that was it. Had he been close to the Romulan-Vulcan hybrid officer?

"I did no such thing," he shook his head.

"Just as well!" he snapped. "You didn't save her. She didn't sign up, just so you could get her killed by a bunch of terrorists. How many more of us will die because of you? Everyone dreads being under your command. Even Jaxa here will tell you that."

"Don't drag me into this," the Bajoran woman held up her hands, clearly wishing she was a thousand lightyears from the Imperial Library. "Commander, I don't….."

"Don't be such a weak-skinned ridged-skin!" Shran snapped, interrupting her. "You should leave me be, Commander. I will be better off without you. We all would."

"I have let you get everything off your chest," James said, narrowing his eyes in his own anger. Yet he didn't let it control him. "You have no idea what it means to serve the Federation. You have sat on a comfortable ship, never having to put your neck out. Never once have you fired your phaser, knowing that it's either you kill or be killed. You've never been faced down by thousands of Jem'Hadar, who believe that killing you will bring life to them and glory to their gods. You've never been so scared that you skin has been covered in goosebumps and the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

"It's in those moments the true measure of a person is revealed. Will you shirk your duties? Or will you face it like a Starfleet officer, ready to give your life to protect the freedom of others. Crewman Zekstra understood the price that had to be paid, and she performed her duty admirably.

"And yet you dishonor her memory and the uniform by whining like a little child who thinks that life is unfair because all the ice cream got eaten…"


	6. Act 5

**Act 5**

 _"Commander?"_

Flashes of memory surged through his mind. Each one wishing to take predominance. One moment he was on the _Redemption_. Jem'Hadar were storming the corridors, and he fired a phaser over his shoulder as he ran, comrades falling all around him.

 _"He is showing an increase in neural activity. I would assume he's beginning to waken."_

Then he was on the _Disaster_. Romulan plasma fire had caused a massive fire in the science lab he had been working in. Burning plasma had crossed the legs of the Andorian crewman he was trying to drag to safety. She was screaming as the plasma ate through cloth, skin and muscle.

 _"Come on, Commander. Wakey, wakey."_

Next he was on the _Perspective_. His hands were becoming criss-crossed with dark webs, skin tearing as Borg probes tore through his insides. He was beginning to hear voices. Thousands of voices as one. His vision was beginning to become wavy as he pushed the damaged ship straight at the Borg sphere. The ship was within mere kilometers of the sphere's hull, the sphere shooting green tractor beams to catch the errant ship.

His eyes slowly opened, and he looked up at the faces that were peering down at him. The Vulcan face of Doctor T'Lal, a satisfied expression on her face. The sharp-toothed muzzle of Z'org. And the long-haired visage of Captain Traz. He didn't need to be a telepath to sense the relief that was pouring from the woman.

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes locking on the Captain's.

"You suffered a mild concussion, burst blood vessels in your eye-lid and several of your dentures were removed by the force of a blow." The Doctor reported. "You were fortunate that Councilor Ziz and Crewman Cerin were there to assist you."

"Cerin?" he frowned, his brain seeming a bit sluggish. "Oh, the Bajoran woman. I do not remember what happened."

"You were KO'd by Crewman Doog'ren."

"He'sss in the brig, Commander," the Gorn informed him. "Thisss one sssaw to it personally."

 _Oh yeah_ , James thought to himself.

He and Shran had gotten into a heated argument. He remembered the first blow across the jaw. He remembered, or at least thought he did, that he had gotten a good punch off himself before everything went black. He lifted his left hand and saw that there were little splotches of dark blue on his Borg implants.

Well at least he hadn't gone down without a fight. Yet that didn't fix the main issues that were at hand. Issues that the fight had brought to the surface. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and the doctor cleared her throat.

"It is not advisable for you to sit up so quickly after being revived," T'Lal objected.

"I need to speak with the Captain," he responded, looking into Traz's eyes. He had never really looked into her eyes before but found there a deep blue. He felt for a moment that he was looking into deep wells of deep emotion. "Alone."

She looked at him for a few seconds, and then without looking away from him, she nodded her head. The other officers moved away, T'Lal muttering about illogical humans and Z'org about how he wished he could tell the Commander what he planned to do with the offending Andorian.

Lillian watched her First Officer as he seemed to deflate once they were alone. He lowered his head and put it in his hands. She could sense a flood of emotions. Anger, guilt, sadness, remorse. The pain that he had felt from the physical fight didn't seem to be what was generating these emotions.

"James?" she asked, looking at his thin brown hair.

"I….I don't know if I can do this," he finally said.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him.

"Shran said a few things before he jumped me," he said, rubbing his lacing his hands behind his head. "He said that the crew fears me. That they believe I am going to lead them all to die. That no one wants to serve on a mission with me. He claims that Crewman Zekstra didn't sign up to be murdered by me. Obviously, that's not true, but….."

He hesitated and let his hands slid off his head and fall between his legs. She could feel the torrent of emotions battling inside him. She felt a cold hand as if it gripped her heart and stomach at the words.

"What if I am a bad luck charm?" he asked miserably. "What if people do indeed die around me just because I'm around?"

"Be grateful that every day when the sun comes up you don't turn into stone and have to wait for the night to become alive again," Lillian said, trying to cheer him up.

"How can the crew respect me if they are always afraid of me?" he asked, shaking his head. "Perhaps you should get yourself a new first officer. One that won't provoke violent outbursts by his very presence. Maybe I should resign."

"You could, but what about my needs?" Traz asked.

"I can't fulfill your needs as a first officer if I am causing fights by simply breathing!"

She crossed her arms and put her tongue between her teeth, biting down on it. Here she was, having put so much faith in him. Giving him a second chance, and he wanted to throw in the towel already. Hanging his head like a defeated dog.

"Well, if you aren't a selfish individual," she said, her voice hard.

"C-captain?" he asked, raising his head a little.

"The first time you encounter someone that doesn't like you, you turn tail and run," Traz said.

"Is it so wrong to try to preserve peace among a crew?"

"This isn't you trying to preserve peace, it's you simply wishing to avoid confrontation!" Lillian snapped. "I didn't bring you on my ship to mop and bemoan the hardness of life. I brought you on board my ship…."

"Because you thought I'd be a good luck charm!" he threw his hands up. Pushing himself to his feet, he walked around to the other side of the bed. Curling a fist he leaned his forearm against the wall. Well, as best as he could, as the wall was curved at a slight gradience. "I'm not a good luck charm, Captain. Standing in the midst of rubble, seeing all your comrades dead, there is nothing remotely lucky about that. I can't….I can't serve the way you want me to serve.

"I've brought anger and hostility to your crew. Dread that I will cause the death of good people. I can't have that on my conscious. That I have failed you."

Suddenly the light of understanding popped in her mind. She hadn't realized that he was trying to live up to an image that he believed she expected. He must have thought she wanted someone who could keep the peace on her ship. That she wanted someone that the crew would automatically love and adore.

She took a few steps around the bed and stepped up to him. His back was towards her and there was tension. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look," she said, "You have me all wrong, James. I don't want you to keep peace on my ship. I want you to be firm. I want you to feel comfortable. I need you to command. Not mollycoddle the crew. All I want is for you to be yourself."

He straightened slightly and turned to her. His face showed his vulnerability. She reached up took him by the hairy cheek and turned him gently towards her own face. She looked him deep in the eyes.

"I want James Brown Enviro as my first officer," she said. "I don't want a pacifist who avoids a fight. Part of command is that people will hate you. And guess what, I need you."

Suddenly there was a spark of emotion. From him, it was a firming of resolve. The words had roused him to manfully take to his duties. There was no more thought of abandoning his duty…..of abandoning her.

She had felt it, even though he himself hadn't realized it. That was plainly clear. This moment they had joined together, not only in purpose but in…..what?

To her though, it was like her heart suddenly stopped beating. This moment of clarity between the two, suddenly it made her stomach drop and to suddenly feel very warm. Those green eyes, they had seemed to latch to her very soul. She let his face go, dropping her hand and turning away from him.

"Go get them, Tiger," she said airily as she walked towards the door.

The sick bay's doors opened, and she stepped out in the hallway. She had walked a few feet before she slowed to a stop. Her stomach was filled with a violent fluttering and she felt short of breath. She put her back against a wall and putting her hand to her hands on her stomach breathed through her nose and out her mouth, trying to calm herself. To center her emotions.

Two security personnel walked by. They were twin brothers from Earth, both dark-skinned and greying hair. They nodded to her as they walked by, talking about a new type of phaser being produced. She nodded to them in response.

"Come on Lillian," she took a deep breath. "What's the matter with you?"

But she knew exactly what the matter was. And as she pushed from the wall to continue walking to the bridge, she didn't like what it meant.

* * *

The blizzard of white light that made the teleporter beam dissipated. The first thing he noticed was Lt. Commander Yoshi Tano barking orders at an ensign. The poor girl was shivering in her boots, tears in her eyes as Tano was point to several data rods that had obviously fallen on the ground.

"I am so pleased to see that you are carrying on," James said, stepping up to the scene.

"Commander," Tano said, giving him a nod. "I am pleased to see that you are back on your feet."

"More then that," he assured her. Ever since he had talked with Captain Traz he had felt more at peace with himself. He wouldn't allow a little temper-tantrum from a disgruntled crewman put him down. "What happened?"

"Ensign Delanie," Tano snarled, turning her fierce Korean glare at the girl. "The foolish girl dropped a dozen data rods! These are very rare and fragile. She might have broken one."

He bent down and picked each one up and examined them. The rods were cylindrical in shape, each one the length of his hand, from the tip of his middle finger to the bottom edge of his palm. Each one seemed to have survived intact.

"Well, they look alright," he said, collecting them all and placing them in the ensign's hands. "Just make sure you are more careful next time."

"Yes…yes sir," Delanie said in a small, quavering voice. She walked between them, heading towards a large crate that was being filled with them.

"Commander!" one of the teams shouted to him. "Would you please give us a hand, sir?"

He rounded his shoulders and gave a smile. Yes, he felt like he could give a hand. Maybe even more. Full attention maybe? He didn't see the Romulans, so he figured they were gone in a different part of the library. Which was fine with him.

* * *

"I hope that all these books will be more than sufficient to further your research and bring you one step closer to proving your theories," James said, putting a hand lightly on the Romulan's shoulders.

"I think there is more than enough work here to keep us occupied for quiet a while," Alarich said.

Indeed, the cargo-bay was all but snowed under with books, scrolls and data rods. The teams could be seen working in different locations throughout the cargo-bay, continuing to work on transferring data. There was already a good discovery about how neutreno particles had been essential for the creation of the Iconian Gateways.

"We'll be able to transfer most of this over to our ship, once your done making the copies," the Scholar Imperator informed him. "Again, I wish to thank you for all the time you allowed us. I only wish we could have kept working down in the Imperial Library. Tralad has seen it's last service to the Romulan Star-Empire."

James smiled. "I'm glad to hear about it," he told the older man. "Hopefully I'll be able to read my name in your next book."

"Perhaps as small footnote," the Romulan said with a mischievous smile. He held up his fingers and had them parted at barely a centimeter between the tips of thumb and index finger.

James smiled and with a small bow, he turned and headed out of the cargo bay. He turned to walked towards the turbo-lift. He was looking forward to filling out his report on this assignment, which had been very much to his liking. The lift opened and he stepped inside.

"Deck 2," he called.

The lift began to ascend. His office was on deck 2. It was at the beginning of the deck, where the rest of the officer's cabins were. It would only be four decks above the cargo bays. He had passed deck four within moments when suddenly something flared up inside him.

"Halt turbolift," he suddenly called out. "Take me to the brig."

The turbolift didn't have to move very far, as the brig was located on deck four. He exited and began striding with purposeful steps. He barely even noticed he had exited the lift before he found himself stepping through the door to the brig.

A security officer was tapping away at the LCARS screen before him in the nearly completely enclosed circular security console. He glanced up, one of his eyes replaced with a cybernetic one, the rest of the eye-socket around it seemed to have melted away. If James had to guess, it had been a gift from a Jem'Hadar soldier. He had seen similar wounds.

"Commander?" the human male asked him.

"I wish to speak with the prisoner," he said. His voice brooked no argument.

The officer lifted his finger and pointed to the corner cell. He nodded as he stepped up towards the cell. The Andorian could be seen. He was laying on the hard bed. He glanced sideways at the Commander, then returned to staring up at the ceiling.

"I hope it was worth it, Crewman Doog'ren," James told him. Even as he said the words, he felt a phantom pain from where the teeth had been reattached by T'Lal's administrations. "You spent three goods years on the Wayne. A clean record. You threw it all away for a personal vendetta. Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offense. And no one is going to lie for you."

The Andorian said nothing in reply. He stared at the ceiling, as if James was not there. James' fist curled. The audacity of the man! But there was something to be said as he looked at him. The Andorian was trapped in his own hate. He could do nothing anymore.

"I'm going to be here," the Commander told him. "You haven't driven me away. I will stand by the crew of this ship and help guide it. You can do nothing to me now."

He turned and walked away. He had gotten it off his chest. He felt good, having confronted the crewman. He nodded to the security officer as he passed him by.

"Above the mist of a crescent moon," Shran suddenly said. His voice sounded as if he were reciting something. "It lays in wait and is coming soon. Like a deadly disease without a cure. A horrid nightmare for all to endure."

Something about the words made James freeze in his step. He turned to look back and saw that the Andorian was pressed as close as he could to the security forcefield. The dark eyes stared at him from across the brig.

"We abide our time with life's desire and await the serpent with all its' ire. The gripping fear that rides so high. The women tremble, our children cry."

"That is the first verse of the Dark Poetry Poem, The Soul of Impending Doom, by the Earther Malcholm Dark," the Andorian told him. "They are coming for you, Commander. You won't know when or how. You won't see it coming. But there are members of this crew that will do whatever it takes to get rid of you."

The words were spoken with a calm. That unnerved James more than anything else. It wasn't the hysterical, the loud, the angry threats that were the ones to be taken seriously. They were usually done in the heat of the moment.

No, it was the calm ones. The ones that stated it as fact. It was those ones that were serious.

"I have survived the Jem'Hadar," James told him. "I have also survived the Romulans. I have even beaten the Borg. Tell your confederates, if they are really there: Do your worst."

He turned and headed towards the door to the brig. As he walked, he heard Shran resume reciting the poem. The words followed him like poison, one he could certainly outrun.

"To technology and greed our ideals transcend. Ourselves we have plagued to the living end. To live or die? The time has come for all to pay. Our thoughts turn to God, on our knees we pray."


End file.
